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WHEN THERE IS NOTHING TO CELEBRATE

These are not optimistic times, at least from my perspective. Indeed, they have never been; humankind has always lived on the edge, like any other species on the planet we inhabit. The world today is neither better nor worse, but we are in it, and therefore events directly affect us.

I watch with dismay as those who aspire to make the planet a better place are failing. The powerful act as they are, disregarding the opinions of others. It's not encouraging, but it's the way it is. From an artistic perspective, I believe we are not taking advantage of this great opportunity presented by the challenges we face. 

For some time now, artists have become machines for producing consumer goods that allow them to make a profit. Some say so openly; others prefer to keep it discreet. These days I was thinking about “Logical Song” by Supertramp (a band I've always admired). Artists like that don't exist anymore, and I even doubt that those artists are what they used to be. 

Berekekê has undergone some significant changes recently. We've had to address an impersonation issue on the official website (a common problem with public figures). Of course, this doesn't affect the website's functionality; we've simply made some adjustments.  

“Estirpe” (Lineage) was published, an album that had been on my mind for several years, but due to laziness, negligence, apathy, confusion, etc., I had not decided to enter that kitchen.

This work incorporates techniques acquired over the years and features the mastering by Bob Katz of digido.com, one of the best in his field. Working with Mr. Katz is pleasant and approachable; it's reassuring when everything is clear for both parties. Another important factor is that, for the first time, the artwork was created by someone else. Moisés Hergueta Borrego is an artist from Cádiz and the bassist for some of the local bands I was in. His work is very intriguing  (Moisés Hergueta Borregol).

To learn more about “Estirpe,” I recommend downloading the free study guide from the official website.

It's always nice to hear good reviews (even if you paid for them yourself) about your work. However, I've never been impressed by them. When no one is interested in calling you for a radio or television interview, it's because one of the following is really happening:

1. You're not a salesperson, you don't sell a product: I'M NOT INTERESTED.

2. You're not a professional, just an amateur: I'M NOT INTERESTED.

Every artist has a touch of narcissism. Occasionally it's frustrating to feel invisible or to have some people insist on keeping you that way.

My extensive musical output has yet to see a stage, a theater where it can be shared live. Musicians shun you as if you were a pariah who won't provide them with a living anytime soon. This is the reality of the independent artist.

In “My Name Is Bach” (which, by the way, has terrible acting), it's said that Wilhelm Friedemann Bach was the first to embrace the freedom of the artist. Another damned soul.

In the end, you end up kissing your abuser's feet just to keep your narcissism inflated. This is how we've returned to Bandcamp and even, for some albums with restricted digital distribution, to CD Baby.

As a clear indication of the current state of affairs, when looking for a course on creativity, you realize that most of them introduce the word “competitiveness.” It's paradoxical, to say the least, that these terms are linked.

Everything is terribly disappointing. Human beings, as a species, are tacitly so. Never before have artists been so enslaved as they are now, the target of every criticism: from the public, the media, the very concept of art itself, and so on.

In this “anything goes” environment, there's a lot of filth. People who have adopted a label that's far too big for them. More than artists, they're survivors lacking anything better. In the music world, we're living through one of the worst periods of mediocrity. But the saddest thing is that mediocrity triumphs because the entire network that holds it together is made of flimsy fibers.

Barely surviving is inherent to the independent artist if you intend to make a living from your art. There isn't even a patron figure anymore, only crowdfunding platforms that say “donations accepted.”

My narcissism now centers on finding the opportunity to see some of my work performed on stage, even if it's in a minimal ensemble, before a small audience, and without expecting too much from the results. I believe in my art; I have unwavering faith in it. I know it's good, but above all, I know it's planned, organized, and meticulously crafted, and for that reason, I'm proud. Dignity is the last thing an artist should lose.

Therefore, at this stage of my life, there's nothing to celebrate. I'll save the candles and the cake for a better occasion.

berekekê